Page 107 of The Bad Husband

“That’s what she says now. What else did she say to your father?”

“That she had never had luck in love.”

I laugh.

“She has a great sense of humor.”

“My father never thought so.”

“Did he really like her?”

“He didn’t know any better. She was nothing like my mother.”

“I somehow figured that one out.”

“She was flashy and manipulative. For some reason, he enjoyed that side of her. It helped him move on and not think about my mother. It messed with his head and stopped him from being depressed. But Henrietta wasn’t genuine. She liked to pretend she cared about him.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Enough about her. What about we go downstairs and spend some time at the pool? You need to change, though,” I insist.

She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

“Now? You and me?”

I nod.

“Put on your sexy swimsuit and let’s get going. I have to be at the club in an hour.”

She sets herself in motion.

“So, you’re not swimming.”

“No. You swim. I watch.”

“What about her?”

“Don’t worry about her.”

She keeps her eyes connected with mine as she moves toward the closet. Moments later, she walks in, and I shift my eyes back to the pool.

A few moments later, Lila emerges from the walk-in closet. She wears her sexy swimsuit and shorts, her boobs barely covered by the small triangles of fabric.

My hands itch to move over her chest and remove her bra. I would love to take a nipple into my mouth, turn her on, and make her suck my dick like it’s going out of fashion.

She’d look great with cum over her lips and chest.

With her shorts clinging to her ankles and my mouth between her legs. Nothing turns me on more than seeing her get turned on.

She’s like a little miracle to me.

She lets me do all these things to her, and then, when I expect it the least, she pushes me away by saying something unusual. Doing something out of the ordinary. Standing up to me. Or demanding something I can’t give her, so I don’t get used to the idea of fully having her.

But I do get used to the idea of having her.

I can’t wait to get home these days and play with her.

We’re still playing with each other. Figuring out each other.

“Is it better?” she asks as my eyes slide to her ponytail.